Frank Leahy (center) is reunited with two of his “lads,” Creighton
Miller (left) and John Lujack (right) in
1963. (Courtesy of the University of Notre Dame Sports Information
Department)

This month's edition of Out
of Bounds features a humorous story about “Creighty.”

"Rabbity. A trifle too rabbity," complained Coach Frank Leahy. He was
talking about Creighton Miller, his magnificently talented left
halfback.

Leahy's problem with Miller was simple. Miller's family was well off.
Creighton Miller did not need and would not accept a football
scholarship, no matter how many times Leahy tried to push one on him.

Like any coach, Leahy did not shirk from using scholarships to control a
player. A scholarship strengthened a man's ties to his school; it gave
him a sense of responsibility to his team. Also, a coach could always
threaten to discontinue the scholarship. This way, the player's father
would start getting bills he thought only existed in defense
contracting.

Creighton Miller, happily, was unburdened by any of this. One fine April
day, Frank Leahy sought out Creighton on campus.

"Will you be out for practice this afternoon?" inquired Leahy.

Creighton Miller filled his lungs with the breath of Spring. "Think I'd
rather play golf today," he said.

"Yay, Tom, what a block!" Creighton would cheer. "That's how to play
football."

This was not Frank Leahy's idea of a truly disciplined football
practice.

One particular drill was especially hard on the ends, who had to streak
down the field, grab a punt, run back to the kicker, and repeat the
whole process ad nauseam. The ends were lucky one day to have
Creighton Miller as their punter. When they signaled that they were
getting tired, Creighton was only too happy to give them a rest. He
promptly kicked the ball off the side of his foot and over the fence.
Everyone had to wait while a team manager retrieved the pigskin. When
the ball came back, Miller hooked it over the fence again.

"Ooooh, Creighton Miller!" It was Leahy from the tower overlooking the
practice field. "Surely you can kick better than that."

"Sure, Coach." Miller got another ball and winked at the ends. "Like
this?" He kicked it over the fence again.

"Oh, my," gasped Leahy. "You're doing it wrong. All wrong."

Miller looped another ball out of bounds.

Leahy climbed out of the tower and rushed to Miller's side. The coach
began a long technical lecture on proper punting technique.

"I got it," Miller nodded. Another ball went over the fence.

"Ooooh, Creighton Miller!" Leahy kept teaching; Miller kept squirting
his kicks to the side; and the ends kept their laughter to themselves.